Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(40)

“What’s your name?” Sophronia felt no compunction about disregarding proper introductions with a child.

“They call me Vieve.”

“Odd name.”

“Suits me.”

“Right. I’m going to go over there and get some coal. Does that meet with your approval, Vieve?”

Vieve gave her another one of his dimpled grins and scampered off, holding his trousers up with one hand. He returned moments later, before Sophronia had a chance to collect any coal, with a sleepy Soap in tow.

They made for an odd pair: the scamp of a nine-year-old in overlarge clothing and the tall, gangly sootie with shirtsleeves so short his wrists poked out the ends.

“Good evening, miss.” Soap’s face lit up with that Sup leeves swide, white-toothed smile.

“Are you well, Soap?”

“Well and good, miss, well and good. Got my little meal, did ya?”

“Yes, thank you. Bumbersnoot and I were most appreciative.”

“Bumbersnoot?” wondered Vieve.

“The miss here’s landed herself a mechanimal.”

The young boy’s face lit up. “You have a real live mechanimal! Can I see it?”

“Well, no, not right now. He’s in my room, up in the students’ section.”

“No, I mean later. Can I see it later?”

Soap explained the boy’s evident enthusiasm. “Vieve here is fixing to be the next great inventor.”

Sophronia was shocked. “That’s a grand ambition for someone your age.”

“Not when your aunt is Beatrice Lefoux.” Soap twisted his mobile mouth into a funny grimace.

Sophronia flinched at that statement, glaring down at the nine-year-old before her. “Your aunt is Professor Lefoux! Why didn’t you say?”

Vieve shrugged in a way that managed to look particularly French. “Why should I?”

“You won’t tell her, will you?”

“Tell her what?”

“About Bumbersnoot? Or my being in the boiler room?”

“ ’Course not. Why would I?” Vieve looked offended.

“Oh, thank you.”

“So now can I see your mechanimal?”

Feeling as though she had been somehow trapped, Sophronia said, “Yes, very well. How will you get up to my room, though?”

“Oh, I get round most anywhere I wants.”

“No one bothers to keep track of this scamp,” Soap said, pulling off the boy’s cap and ruffling his hair in a manner Vieve clearly found unnecessary and annoying.

“Are you not a real Uptop?” Sophronia felt a little silly using the word.

Vieve shrugged again. “I’m whatever I want to be, so long as alarms don’t sound.”

“That must be nice.” Sophronia exchanged a look of amusement with Soap.

“Get a small stock of black for the lady, would you, Vieve?” Soap tilted his head in the direction of a mound of coal.

Vieve gave the tall boy a measured look and then trotted purposefully off.

“Arrogant little blighter,” said Soap affectionately, once the lad was out of earshot.

“I suppose you’d have to be, if Professor Lefoux were your aunt.” Sophronia was philosophical.

Vieve returned with his pockets bulging. Sophronia transferred the coal to her black velvet reticule. It was her very best evening bag, but it was the only one that wouldn’t show coal smudges.

“Nice keeper,” Vieve commented on the reticule.

“Thank you.”

“Vieve here has an eye for accessories.”

“I like a nice hat on a lady,” was Vieve’s dignified response, with which he trundled off about his own business.

“Nine years old, you say?”

“Well, when your only ma is French and a Lefoux, gotta develop some ways to cope. That barrow contraption of mine, the one you saw last time you was here? That’s Vieve’s.”

Sophronia was impressed. “I thought you built it.”

“Nope, I tested it. Vieve’s got the brains.”

Sophronia tilted her head and looked up at the tall young man. “I don’t know about that.”

Soap pulled at one ear self-consciously. “Why… miss.”

Sophronia was trying to come up with a way to extract herself from what appeared to be an awkward conversation—That’ll teach me to try flirting outside the classroom—when one of the boilers nearby sparked to roaring life and far away she heard the clang of alarm bells on the upper decks.

“Oh, blast it! Do you think they noticed I wasn’t abed?”

Soap hustled her over to the exit hatch and held it wide while Sophronia climbed out. “No, miss, that’s a perimeter alarm, that is. School’s under attack. Technically, you’re supposed to stay put, here with us.”

“If I’m going to get caught, I’d just as soon it was outside. Better for my reputation.”

“My thinking exactly. Good luck, miss.”


Must be flywaymen, back for the prototype. Sophronia slung the reticule full of coal around her neck and climbed up the rope ladder. On the positive side, none of the teachers would still be in their rooms. On the negative side, she might well encounter any number of them on deck as she tried to make her way back to her own quarters.